A PASSION for out-door sports seems to be a
natural characteristic of the inhabitants of all northern countries. In
warm climates such diversions, which require some exertion of the body,
are by no means general, if we except hunting, which, however, in such
regions is rather a necessity than a sport. In the exhilarating
atmosphere of the temperate zone, where the weather is cool enough to be
at all times pleasant arid the blood tingles with a healthy circulation
when a little more exercised than usual, out- door sports are common and
enjoyed by all classes. In those parts of North America, in France,
Germany, Switzerland, Holland, Sweden and Britain, there are to he found
pastimes peculiar to each, as well as many which appear to be common to
them all.

In Scotland from the very
earliest times such sports formed a prominent feature in the social
history of the people. Every village had its haugh, every town its
meadow; and on the long summer evenings, in that twilight which has done
so much to develop Scottish character and muscle, the joyous shouts of
the athletes were often to he heard. In the Highlands it was the general
practice, when one chief visited another, for the retainers of both to
meet in front of the castle or mansion and try conclusions with each
other in feats requiring dexterity, strength or skill.. Sometimes the
contestants waxed angry, and the tussle ended in hard knocks and
bloodshed, but as a rule they were satisfied with peaceful victories.

The out-door sports peculiar to Scotland are
simple, natural and conducive to health and strength both of mind and
body. They may be said to have had no particular origin, but, like Topsy,
"just grow'd," and any attempt to improve upon them or to carry them
into covered quarters has invariably ended in failure. I remember, a
year or two ago, seeing in Barnum's "Great Moral Show" a couple of
really good Caledonian athletes, who, among the other attractions, gave
bogus contests at hitch-and-kick, pole-vaulting, and one or two others.
It was the most tiresome exhibition in the whole programme, and the
champions were allowed to drop out as soon as their term of engagement
was completed. Now, hitch-and-kick is really a beautiful display of
agility and power, and never fails to find admirers when it is honestly
conducted in the open air. But in the glare of the gaslights, in the
heated atmosphere of the circus, and amidst painted faces, spangled
dresses and the boisterous excitement of the ring, it fell flat and
dreary. Another great superiority of Scottish sports over those of many
other nations lies in their inexpensiveness. The German athlete, for
instance, has his costly turn-hall, fitted up with apparatus and
contrivances of all sorts. The English athlete has his racquet-hall, his
cricket-grounds, and his boating conveniences. The American athlete
builds a more or less elaborate club-house, encloses costly grounds, and
runs on carefully prepared cinder-paths which are maintained in good
condition only by continual attention and at considerable expense. The
Canadian lacrosse player also requires extensive grounds, and even the
more democratic snow-shoer, after he buys his shoes, gets rigged out in
his uniform, pays his club's clues and responds regularly to
assessments, finds his pleasure rather an expensive one. The Scotch
athlete needs none of these extravagances. A boulder picked up from a
field is as good an implement for putting as is the most carefully
finished and smoothly rounded iron ball. A young tree, or a branch cut
from an old monarch of the forest, serves for a caber, and any road is
good enough for a running track. In fact, I often wonder whether our
modern amateur athletes, with their expensively maintained and carefully
prepared grounds, are real amateurs after all. It seems to me, in their
case, athletics is as much a business as it can possibly be, and their
language about the niceties of distance, their anxieties concerning
records, their Paid trainers and handlers, and the inevitable charge of
gate money, go far to prove it. I have often seen a group of men in
Scotland, real amateurs, throw a stone for a trifling wager. The
distances they threw were not measured, and I do not believe one of them
cared a cent whether he threw his stone five feet or fifty feet, so long
as he threw it further than did any of the others. This, of course, may
be deemed a very primitive system, and so it is, but the true end of
amateur sports, that of increasing the manly vigor and strength of the
human frame, is fully gained by it. In America amateur athleticism is
carried too far. For, besides making the athletes really become
professionals, it causes many to over-train themselves and so fall
victims to disease. I have noticed in the vicinity of New York out-door
sports indulged in on Thanksgiving Day, when the young athletes, clad in
their tights, appeared on their club grounds livid with cold and almost
unable to speak. Surely there is no pleasure in this, nothing conducive
to health, or even anything which tended to improve the athletic prowess
of the trembling wretches who took part in the performances.

That the simple sports of Scotland are endowed with
many qualifications which tend to strengthen and develop the body is
evident even to the most casual observer. Any one who has watched the
athletes at play must have noticed how freely and richly the blood rises
to their cheeks, how clear and sparkling are their eyes, and how regular
and deep their respiration. Such games quicken the blood, making it
course through the veins freely and actively, improve the muscles and
strengthen the brains of those who practice them. Mere dexterity is not
so much a necessity in Caledonian sports as are strength and endurance,
and hence we find that the Scots do not take very kindly to trapeze
performances, cross-bar exploits or posturing. There is a certain degree
of danger attending many of the Scottish games which imparts an
additional interest to them, in some minds at least. I have seen more
than one good athlete lamed for life by the snapping of the pole when at
the very height of his vault; the hammer has often been thrown right in
the midst of a knot of spectators, fracturing a skull or dislocating an
arm; and the quoit, in the hands of a wild player, has sometimes caused
a life.

Such ordinary athletic sports as
running, jumping and simple exercises of strength have naturally formed
part of the social amusements of the Scottish people from the earliest
period of their history, and so continue until now. The simpler the
circumstances under which these sports are contested, the less they
smack of the turn-halle; and the more completely they are devoid of
implements or preparation, the more closely do they approach the style
in vogue in the days of auld lang syne. The absence of "records," the
most obnoxious feature of modern amateur athletics, that which has made
them really professional and encourages betting, gambling and swindling
of various sorts, kept these sports pure, clean and healthy, and made
them alike popular among all classes in the community.

Of what may be called the more aristocratic class
of sports hunting was, and still is, the most esteemed. The immense
forests which once covered the face of the country gave ample
accommodation for animals, birds and all sorts of wild game, and the
natural inclination of most of the people led them to engage in the
chase with ardor and delight. Boars, wolves, foxes and deer were thick
in the forests of the lowlands and midlands, as well as in the glens and
wooded hillsides of the Highlands; while all sorts of birds, from the
partridge, plover, blackcock and muircock even to the eagle itself, were
seen all over the land. The rivers teemed with fish, and while rude nets
of lythe were used to haul on shore such ordinary denizens of the loch
or river as cod, saith or flounder, the sport reached its most exciting
form in the spearing of the salmon, the royal fish of the country From
very early tines game in Scotland was more or less protected or
"preserved." Sometimes a forest was preserved for the court; sometimes
it was preserved by the monks, as was that of Drumsheugh, around
Holyrood, after King David, in gratitude, the legend tells us, for his
escape from being gored by a deer, gave it to the church. Sometimes it
was "preserved" by statutes prohibiting particular species being
destroyed during certain seasons, and sometimes it was prohibited
altogether in certain districts. The legislators of Scotland devoted
great attention to the preservation of game, and indeed on the old
statute books there are more laws protecting game than there arc
concerning the lives and property of the common people. This is
accounted for by the fact that most of the legislators were land owners
or dependants on land owners, and used their power to make their
property as valuable as possible. The representatives of the burghs, who
represented the people, did not concern themselves about what was of no
seem no, interest to their constituents. When they awoke from this
error, game, whether beast, bird or fish, in Scotland had become so
hedged in and guarded by enactments and laws that it was almost a penal
offence to look at any of them. Even at the the most obnoxious feature
of modern amateur athletics, that which has made them really
professional and encourages betting, gambling and swindling of various
sorts, kept these sports pure, clean and healthy, and made them alike
popular among all classes in the community.

Of what may be called the more aristocratic class
of sports hunting was, and still is, the most esteemed. The immense
forests which once covered the face of the country gave ample
accommodation for animals, birds and all sorts of wild game, and the
natural inclination of most of the people led them to engage in the
chase with ardor and delight. Boars, wolves, foxes and deer were thick
in the forests of the lowlands and midlands, as well as in the glens and
wooded hillsides of the Highlands ; while all sorts of birds, from the
partridge, plover, blackcock and muircock even to the eagle itself, were
seen all over the land. The rivers teemed with fish, and while rude nets
of lythe were used to haul on shore such ordinary denizens of the loch
or river as cod, saith or flounder, the sport reached its most exciting
form in the spearing of the salmon, the royal fish of the country From
very early tines game in Scotland was more or less protected or
"preserved." Sometimes a forest was preserved for the court; sometimes
it was preserved by the monks, as was that of Drumsheugh, around
Holyrood, after King David, in gratitude, the legend tells us, for his
escape from being gored by a deer, gave it to the church. Sometimes it
was " preserved " by statutes prohibiting particular species being
destroyed during certain seasons, and sometimes it was prohibited
altogether in certain districts. The legislators of Scotland devoted
great attention to the preservation of game, and indeed on the old
statute books there are more laws protecting game than there arc
concerning the lives and property of the common people. This is
accounted for by the fact that most of the legislators were land owners
or dependants on land owners, and used their power to make their
property as valuable as possible. The representatives of the burghs, who
represented the people, did not concern themselves about what was of no
seeming interest to their constituents. When they awoke from this error,
game, whether beast, bird or fish, in Scotland had become so hedged in
and guarded by enactments and laws that it was almost a penal offence to
look at any of them. Even at the present day in Scotland, so powerful
are the laws, it is a greater crime, legally, to kill or trap a pheasant
than it is to steal a guinea. Up to a very few years ago rabbits, hares
and other ground vermin were as closely guarded as though they were the
sacred animals of some Eastern potentate.

The Scottish kings appear to have all, with one exception, been more or
less enamored of the chase. I have already mentioned King David's
legendary adventure in the forest of Drumsheugh which resulted in the
foundation of the Abbey of Holyrood; and similar instances of a love for
hunting might be given of all his successors except James VI., whose
constitutional infirmity rendered him averse to violent exercise or the
sight of blood or firearms. The greatest hunter among all the Scottish
kings, however, was Robert the Bruce. During his wanderings in the wilds
of the country, when his fortunes were at the lowest ebb, he and his few
followers had often to sustain themselves solely by the chase. In
Barbour's "Bruce" we read of Sir James Douglas making gins to capture
salmon, eels, trout and the like. The sound of the king's hunting horn
was so well known that his followers knew its blast as well as the sound
of his voice.

"The king then blew his horn in
by, And gert the men, that wer him by, Hald thaim still, and all
priwe, And syne again his horn blew he. James of Douglas heid
him blaw, And at the last alsone gan knaw, And said, Sothly, yon
is the king:I knaw lang quhill syne his blawing.'"

After Bannockburn, when the independence of the
kingdom was secured, Bruce continued to he as fond of hunting as he was
in his younger clays before the cares and troubles of his throne
occupied his constant care. His dogs, falcons and horses were the most
costly items in his household books.

Hawking was another aristocratic sport, and it was fashionable among
ladies as well as their cavaliers; but, unlike hunting, its practice has
been discontinued. It was a popular theme of the poets, and among the
old ballad writers, as well as with the singers of a later clay, the
sport came in for considerable attention. It was a favorite pastime of
Queen Mary, and that fact has thrown over it in Scotland the glamour of
romance, such as surrounds everything connected wth that beautiful
woman. In his " History of Scotland ' Tytler thus describes a hawking
scene : " We see the sun just rising upon a noble chase or park with
breezy slopes and gentle undulations, variegated with majestic oaks, and
getting wilder and more rugged as you approach the mountains that
surround it. His level rays are glancing on the windows of a baron's
castle and illuminating the massive gray walls till they look as if they
were built of gold. By and by symptoms of busy preparation are seen ;
horses are led into the court; knights, squires and grooms are booting
and mounting and talking of the coming sport; the huntsmen and the
falconer stand ready at the gate, and the ladies' palfreys, led by their
pages, are waiting for their fair mistresses. At last, these gentle
dames descend from their bower, and each, assisted by her favorite
knight, 'lightly springs to selle;' the aged baron himself is gravely
mounted, and leads the way; and the court of the castle rings with hoof
and horn as the brilliant and joyous cavalcade cross the drawbridge and
disperse themselves through the good greenwood." In the reign of David
II., Scottish falcons were so highly esteemed. that they were exported
to the Continent. The birds used by Queen Mary were taken from
Craigleith, a high, perpendicular rock projecting from the brow of the
WTesthill of Alva. In the 'Western Islands the chiefs used to he proud
of their eyries of these birds, and the attendant who looked after them
on any estate ranked among the most important of the retainers and
enjoyed many perquisites and favors.

Archery was also a common enough spo-t in the early times until it was
driven into the background by firearms. The Scots were apparently well
skilled in the use of the bow, but their weapons were shorter, and
probably of inferior wood, to that terrible long bow which won so many
victories for England in Scotland and on the Continent. Still, the
Scottish archers did good service in the wars of Independence. James I.,
who served for a time with the English army in France and saw the deadly
effect of the bow, devoted much attention to extending its use among his
people. It was the subject of several laws passed by his parliaments,
and at the yearly wapenshaws it was made to play a prominent part, all
yeomen between the ages of sixteen and sixty being required to be
provided wth at least one bow and a sheaf of arrows. It was even
attempted to make archery supersede football as an athletic pastime,
although it is questionable if this attempt succeeded. But the bow never
really became a common favorite, although its old connection with the
country is still kept up by the innocent and harmless exercises of the
Royal Company of Archers at Edinburgh.

The
day of the WTapenshaw was the most popular festival of the old Scotch
towns or villages. The occasion was a general holiday and the athletic
sports were the principal amusements. Interesting details of these days
may be found in such old poems as "Peebles to the Play," or "Christ's
Kirk on the Green," and Sir Walter Scott, in the "Lady of the Lake" and
his grand romance of "Old Mortality," introduces the people's holiday at
Wapenshaw times with fine effect and considerable detail. In the notes
to the poem named Sir Walter says "Every burgh in Scotland of the least
note, but more especially the considerable towns, had their solemn play
or festival, where feats of archery were exhibited and prizes
distributed to those who excelled in wrestling, hurling the bar and
other gymnastic exercises of the period.* * * The usual prize for the
best shooter was a silver arrow."

Wrestling, formerly one of the most frequently practised of all Scottish
sports, has now fallen considerably into disrepute. There are several
reasons for this. The sport has been taken up by professional athletes,
whose mock contests, arranged on platforms in theatres and music-halls,
inspire con- tempt, and even when contested in the open air, as honestly
as professional athletes can contest anything, it has degenerated into a
mere struggle of brute force instead of an exhibition of combined skill,
dexterity, practice and strength. Wrestling should never be attempted or
encouraged except on the greensward. In the stuffy atmosphere of a
theatre it is out of place. Another thing which has led to the downfall
of this fine old sport is the gambling which has been introduced in
connection with it. Wherever this vice has become associated with any
Scottish game it has been allowed to fall into desuetude by the Scottish
people. This may seem singular, but nevertheless it is true. In the
olden times wrestling was a prime favorite among all classes, and was
equally welcomed at the court as on the village haugh. Thus Sir Walter
Scott wrote of it in the " Lady of the Lake":

"Now clear the ring for, hand to hand, The
manly wrestlers take their stand. Two o'er the rest superior rose
And proud demanded mightier foes. Nor called in vain, for Douglas
came. —For life is Hugh of Larbert lame; Scarce better John of
Alloa's fare, Whom senseless home his comrades bear. Prize of
the wrestling match, the King To Douglas gave a golden ring."

Football was another favorite sport at these
gatherings, although it can hardly be described as being peculiar to the
country, for it was and is equally popular in England. Grand matches
used to be common between parishes, and the game, was made the theme of
a spirited poem by the Rev. John Skinner, the author of "Tullochgorumn."
That poem, "The Christmas ba'in at Monymusk," describes how the game was
played at Aberdeenshire; and if the lines be truthful, as doubtless they
are, football was apt to be as wild and dangerous a game in good old
John Skinner's day as it often is in the present year of grace

"In Monymusk was never seenae mony well-best
skins,0' a' the ba' men there was naneBut had twa bleedy shins;
Wi' streinzit shouthers many ane, Dree'd penance for their sins;
An' what was warst, scowp'd hame their laneMaybe to hungry inns
An' cauld that day."

Throwing the hammer
probably originated among the villagers who congregated round the smiddy
after the close of the day's labor, in the delightful twilight hours
which have done so much for Scotland. Putting the stone or tossing the
caber are simple feats of strength; quoting or bowling, requiring a
degree of skill as well as a modicum at least of muscle, are known in
some form or other in many parts of the world, although they probably
have attained their highest excellence in Scotland.

The game of golf is one of the most ancient in
Scotland. When it was first introduced is unknown, although in its
simplest form of shinty it was probably as old as the people themselves.
The game received great impetus from the delight which James VI. took in
it, and his son, Charles I., was also a lover of the sport. Indeed, he
was engaged in it on Links in 1641 when the intelligence reached him of
the rebellion in Ireland, and he at once threw down his club and
returned to Holyrood. Had he always been as energetic in his movements
his end might have been different. His son, James II., also delighted in
the game. Golfing is still a favorite in Scotland, and the links at St.
Andrew, Edinburgh, Leith, Musselburgh, Prestwick, North Berwick, Gullane,
Carnoustie and other places resound in the summer months with the jocund
laughter of the players and the incessant "knacking" of the balls as
they are driven to their holes. The Pastime has crept into England, and
in Canada several clubs have been established within the past year or
so. It is too early yet to form an opinion as to whether it will really
become generally popular in the Dominion—that paradise for out-of-door
athletics—but there certainly is no reason why it should not.

The game of curling is probably the most generally
known among the sports which are regarded as peculiarly Scottish, and it
appears to be winning its way into all the populated countries of the
world wherever a good sheet of ice and a few Scottish instructors can be
found. The Scottish instructor is certainly needed, if we may judge by
the following illustration of the manner in which the mysteries of the
game are explained by the old hands to beginners "Inexperienced member
of a curling club (to venerable skip)—"Mr. MacFergus, what's a pat-lid?"
Skip—" Weel, div ye see, ye gowk ! ye ding ye stane cannilie, but no sae
feckly as tae hoggit. Nae haeffins fleg, nor jinkiri turn, ye ken, but
tentively, that it aye gangs snooving and straught as an elder's walk,
hogsnoutherin' arnang the guards, till ye la:d oil verra tee. When ye've
dun that, laddie, ye've med a pat-lid, and ye may bear the gree."
Inexperienced member (somewhat piqued)—" Thank you, Mr. MacFergus; no
doubt the explanation is very accurate, but I think its lucidity would
have been very much heightened if you had made it in English."Skip—''
Tut, man, all be a curler ye maun faumeelyerize yersel' wi' the
vernauckular."

The game is played all over
Scotland, and the Royal Caledonian Curling Club, "oor auld respecht
mither," as it is affectionately called has on its roll over 600 clubs,
some of which are in Russia, Newfoundland, New Zealand and "other
foreign parts." The great annual match between the players on the north
and south of the Forth and Clyde Canal has brought on the ice as many as
$oo players in one day.On this side of the Atlantic the roarin'
game, as it is fondly called by its devotees, first obtained a foothold
in Canada, where the long, clear winters are peculiarly adapted for its
practice and where the finest players in the world are to be found
to-day. The Montreal Club was organized in 1807. So far as I can trace,
the oldest dun in Ontario is that of Fergus, which was organized in
1834. In 1836 a club was formed in Toronto, a city which now contains
more active players than any other in the world. Then the game slowly
but surely spread all over the Dominion, until at present it is governed
by three grand bodies owning a more or less close allegiance to the
Royal Caledonian in Scotland, and bearing on their rolls about io clubs.
In Ontario the players nearly all use granite; in Quebec and the lower
provinces iron is deemed better adapted for the climate. In Quebec,
however, they are not very particular what they curl with, so long as
they enjoy the game, and one club of fine players achieve their local
victories with 'stones" made of cheese-boxes filled with rubble or soil.

In the United States this game was only played in a
quiet fashion until some twenty-five years ago, and it is probably due
to the stone-cutters and stone-setters of New York that it obtained much
of a hold on this side of the line at all. Droll stories are yet told of
the trials, troubles an(] escapades of the pioneers of the game in New
York, and, if we may judge by the fondness with which such stories are
told, we may believe that the curling of those earlier days was even a
more exciting and enjoyable sport than it is at present. New York has
now eight active clubs, and the game has spread as far West as Wisconsin
and Minnesota, where may he found as keen players as anywhere else. The
number of matches played each year is steadily increasing with the
number of players, and Americans are proving themselves to be as
thorough experts as the most pronounced Scot. The Grand National Club
the central organization in this country has 35 clubs affiliated with
it.

Curling is a sport which has
everything to commend it, and is wholly without any of the drawbacks
which are too often urged with justice against other out-door sports. It
is free from such vices as gambling, betting or professionalism it is
health-giving and invigorating, and equally adapted for the old and the
young ; it is cheap, its implements cost little, and it requires no
costly grounds or tracks for its full enjoyment ; it inspires
friendliness, brotherhood and charity among its devotees, and teaches
the value of a cool head, a steady hand, a clear eye and a cautious
judgment. It teaches men to accept defeat gracefully and to wear the
honors of victory modestly. It is thoroughly democratic in all its
tendencies, and on the ice all men are equal, except that the best
player is the best man. Its season is one when work is scarce with most
of out-door toilers, and its practice keeps the hand and the frame ready
to take up the struggle for existence with renewed activity whenever the
opportunity offers.

Surely these are
advantages enough to commend a game to the kindliest sympathies of all
who love sport for the sake of sport alone. But curling has still
another advantage. It is almost the only athletic sport which has a
literature of its own, and in this respect it is second only to angling
among all pastimes. Volumes have been written concerning the game and
its associations, and its praise has been sung in stirring, sometimes
rollicking, often uncouth, but always kindly verse by countless poets.
Its followers are never tired of speaking about it, telling of its ups
and downs, its victories or defeats, its pleasures, and sometimes even
its pathos. The players are a kindly set, fond of each other, and seem
to he entirely free from any of the petty jealousies which so mar the
pleasures of other athletic sports. For a man to be recognized as a keen
curler, and, above all, as a good skip, is a certain recommendation to
the good graces and kindly regards of other players no matter how
excellent their own curling record may he, or how vastly superior their
social status. The players, are charitable, too, and many a "bow" of
meal or hag of potatoes or barrel of flour are presented yearly to the
deserving poor through the result of a game on the ice. Playing for such
trophies is common, and is one of the best evidences which can be
offered of the perfect innocence of the game and the leal, light, kindly
hearts of the players.

Scottish games have
now become a feature in American life, and nearly every Caledonian club
or society on the continent makes one day in each year a sort of
national holiday when the games can be practised in public as they are
in the old country, and when the resident Scot can air to the fullest
extent his national proclivities, prejudices, likes and dislikes. These
national gatherings are generously thrown open to all comers at a charge
of so much per head, and the sight is well worth seeing, for a glimpse
of Scotsmen at play is not often to be got on this money-making,
pushing, jolting and business-loving side of the globe.

On the morning of the day appointed for their
out-door games in any town, the Caledonians gather together at some
central or convenient meeting place. This they call "the gathering of
the clans," and fancy that the meeting has something in it akin to an
old-time rallying under Roderick Dhu or some other of Sir Walter Scott's
personages. When all is ready they start forth on a parade which, to hut
it mildly, is a pretty severe test of endurance in itself. Fancy a tramp
over rough cobblestones, broken, dirty pavements, and muddy crossings,
with the sun darting down its fiercest rays and the thermometer
disporting itself away up in the nineties in shady recesses. Imagine
such a march lasting for a couple of hours up the steep and crooked
streets of Albany, among the dusty thoroughfares of Philadelphia, or the
wondrously entangled highways of old Boston, and it will be agreed that
the parade ought to be regarded as one of the feats of the occasion, and
he so acknowledged in the official programmes.-

When the travelled foot-sore "clans" reach the
scene of the day's performances, no time is lost in making a beginning.
As a general rule, four skilled clansmen at once make their appearance
on a small platform in the centre of the enclosed arena, and to the
music of a pair of bagpipes perform what is called a Scotch reel. This
is supposed to he a relic of an old war dance which was in vogue in
Caledonia long before the Romans paid it the honor of a visit, and at a
time when the natives were about as civilized as the Indians were on our
frontier a century ago. The reel as it is danced at these games cannot
be regarded as a very graceful arrangement, but it certainly makes up in
vigor whatever it may lack in beauty. Its performers describe the figure
eight in their movements. When the top and bottom of the figure are
reached, each dancer goes through an judecribably wild and helpless
pantomime with his hands, shuffles his feet with extraordinary agility,
utters a loud "hough" or series of "houghs," and then proceeds
describing the figure. The reel lasts from four to ten minutes,
according to the age, agility and enthusiasm of the dancers, and is
generally much applauded.

To a stranger
the appearance of the crowd which is around the arena or within the
enclosure is in itself a treat. There is no mistaking the nationality of
the great majority of the people. High cheek-bones, yellow or auburn
hair, and pronounced physiognomies are the characteristics of nearly
every grown man we meet. Many wear a Scotch cap, or its broad prototype
or progenitor, the Balmoral, and a few extra-enthusiastic chaps are
crowned with real Kilmarnocks, such as all genuine pictures of 'Tam O'
Shanter" represent that "bletherin' blusterin' blellurn" as wearing. Now
and again we run across some one with a nosegay of heather, an envied
adornment brought over by some of the Glasgow steamers, and the great
value of which lies in the fact that a few weeks before it was quietly
and sweetly blooming on some hillside across the sea, in the "land of
the heather" itself. In the early part of the day the Scottish spectator
is somewhat solemn and sedate. He has not yet shaken off his every-day
American feeling; he has just paid for his ticket of admission and is
determined to have his money's worth of sight-seeing. But as the day
waxes older his disposition appears to undergo a change; his heart melts
as he hears the rich old Doric of Burns and Scott from the lips of the
more recent arrivals from the mother-land, and he too begins to use the
good old-fashioned speech. He sees the guidwife attending to the bairns
and expressing herself as his mother used to do in years long gone by.
He sees a crony, or maybe two, and has a talk regarding his early
struggles in Scotland and America. He forgets all about the changes
which the advance of years and difference in scene have brought, and he
wanders to and fro, greeting and being greeted openly, honestly and
warmly. Perhaps as he gets roused up he essays a step or two of a reel
or Sean Trivs in some quiet corner for the edification of his
companions, or tells long stories about how his father fought at
Waterloo and his great-grandfather at Prestonpans, and winds up the
afternoon by singing, as loudly as he can, a verse or two of that most
popular of all national songs, "Auld Lang Sync."

The ladies, too, enjoy the day in their own way
every bit as much as their lords and masters. They like to see the
athletic sports, and all Scotch lassies, young orold, delight in taking
part in a reel or contra dance. One would almost award the prize for
public dancing to these bonnie lassies with the red hue of health on
their cheeks and the roguish twinkle in their merry eyes which have
drawn so many gallant fellows like lambs into the haven or bedlam of
matrimony. There is no mock-modesty about these Scotch lassies. As they
stand up in the inevitable reel they "shake their fit," snap their
fingers, and "hough" with as much vigor—perhaps with a little more—as
their male companions, and when one dance is over they loudly express
their impatience for the next. Then how homely and comfortable is the
repast arrayed in some cozy nook by the thochtfu' guid-wife! How kindly
she gathers her "cummers" around her and gossips away about this one and
that one—about Mrs. So-and-So's guidinan, Lucky Itherane's bairns, and
perhaps denounces in scathing terms the American wife whom some
unregenerated countryman has taken to his bosom. How she does make the
youngsters eat, and oh! how deftly she coaxes the head o' the hoose from
time to time to fortify his inner man with substantial victuals lest the
liquid viands should prove too much for his equilibrium. How her eyes
sparkle as she sees so many weelkent faces about her, and surveys the
manly forms of her male friends as they pass hither and thither! Her
face is an index to her inmost thought, and that thought for the present
is, "There's nae folk like oor ain folk."

The most prominent personages in the crowd, however, are those in whom
national sentiment is so strong that they have been persuaded to don the
kilt and plaid. The wearers of this costume know well they are marked
men, and they enjoy their prominence with no small amount of
self-complacency. Some of them look as though their ambition was to pass
for caricatures of the genuine article, and indulge in a swagger and
assume an air of majesty and dignity which is far from being akin to
their real nature. For the moment, too, their naturally peaceable
proclivities are changed, and they are imbued with a feeling of national
sentiment as strong as that which burned in the bosom of Sir William
Wallace, with a good deal of that of Robert de Bruce thrown in. Who it
was that invented the Highland costume, as it now is fearfully and
wonderfully made, does not seem to be exactly known. He was either
careless or unconscious of the fame which might have been his. Some say
the rig was designed by Murray, of the Edinburgh Theatre Royal, when the
play of "Rob Roy" was first produced on its boards. Others aver that it
is the invention of a Cockney tailor. The genuine Scot affirms that it
is a bonafide relic of antiquity, handed down from father to son, and
that its history can be traced by monuments, sculptured stones and
manuscripts from the remotest eras until now. But all these theories are
nonsensical. The dress as worn now is not in the least adapted for
theatrical display; there is nothing about it which could be evolved
from the inner consciousness of any tailor, Cockney or otherwise; and as
for the antiquity theory, it is safe to say that no old-time, warranted
Highlandman would encumber himself with such a load of trappings and
jewelry as is now considered necessary to constitute a full dress. Fancy
a fellow flying over hills or down glens after Sassenachs or sheep with
such encumbrances as sword, pistols, dirk, sgian dhub, cross and
shoulder belts, cairngorm brooches, Lochaber axes, shield, and as many
things more! The Highland dress as depicted on early records is a
primitive, sensible, and useful affair, and as different from the
present circus arrangement as an ordinary coat of the sixteenth century
is from the swallowtail of the present day. Still the modern Scot
believes in his ornaments and trappings. He calls his dress the "Garb of
old Gaul,", and swears it is the only real and original national
costume, and we must profess to believe like him or arouse his wrath;
and the wrath of a man with a whole armory of claymores, dirks, and
pistols at his side, and perhaps with "a wee drap in his e'e," is not to
be rashly aroused.

By far the most
wonderful character to be met with at these gatherings is undoubtedly
the piper. He furnishes the regular orthodox music for the occasion, and
takes good care that his talents are not hidden under a bushel. He is
the very embodiment of self, and the best example to be found anywhere
of one who walks through life with the satisfactory idea that he is the
great I Am of all creation. He believes that he and his instrument
reflect all the glories of Scotland, past, present, and to come. If he
is more certain of one thing than another, it is that he is the prince
of musicians, the only true musician in the world in fact, and he
regards the claims of pianists, organists, cornettists, and particularly
fiddlers, with supreme contempt. His music is the only genuine article,
fresh from nature, heavenly in its tone, and equally qualified to
inspire a man with love or endow him with the courage of a hero. His
"grace notes" are the veritable quintesses of fine sounds, and as he
swells out a pibroch or march he believes the grandest cathedral organ
in existence to be little better than a tin whistle in comparison with
his drones. Look at him while he marches across the greensward or stalks
along the cinder-path. How jaunty his step, how distended his cheeks as
he "blaws" into the receptacle under his arm, and how daintily his
fingers manipulate among the notes! His eyes are half-shut in ecstasy.
His mind is etherealized and his whole soul is in his tune. He is in the
seventh heaven of delight, and woe be unto any unfortunate who tumbles
across his path or obstructs his progress Then, as he finishes the
melody, how deftly he allows the sound to languish away, and how
elevated and self-conscious his gaze as he looks around for approving
smiles! In his own opinion he is the central figure of the day, the most
thoroughly genuine, unadulterated Specimen of Caledonia on the grounds.
Without him the Scottish element would be shorn of its most prominent
feature and the whole affair and be little better than a sham. With this
impression he charges a goodly price for his day's services, and gets it
too, for to the piper patriotism and pennies are always synonymous.

But the day wears on with all its excitement and
bustle, and noise and clatter. The programme of the games has been
exhausted, the athletes are tired, some of them disgusted, and the ring
is left open for all and sundry, for the lovers to parade in and the
small boy to practise the exercises he has been gazing at during the
day. When the shades of evening begin to fall the guidewife draws her
bairns around her and packs up the inevitable basket. Her men-folk are
secured from further wandering, and the piper gives a loud blast
announcing that all is over. The homeward way is soon taken up, and
strains of "Auld Lang Syne," or "Willie brew'd a peck o' maut," or "Sae
will we yet" are heard at frequent intervals as the pleasure-seekers
pass along. In a little while the place where the games were held is
dark and lonely. The Scot has reached his comfortable home, laid aside
his national trappings in their appropriate "kist," and, after a
rambling talk over the events of the day, jumps into bed and dreams of
heather hills, romantic castles, terrible battles, wonderful adventures,
and bonnie lassies. Next morning he is a thorough American, smart, keen,
logical, and far-seeing. His notions concerning "Nemo me impune lacessit"
are laid away with the costume in the "kist" aforesaid, and until the
next annual outing he is content to pay heed only to the national saying
which advises him to "gather the siller."

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